


Unexpected

by Live



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Afterlife, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon deaths, F/M, Gen, Was Meant To Be Romantic But Can Be Read As General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Live/pseuds/Live
Summary: The Doctor knew nothing of life after death...





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tennants_midnight_wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennants_midnight_wolf/gifts).



> For my dear and darling Tennants_midnight_wolf, your favourite fandom/pairing (though the pairing is more hinted than anything) ~ <3

It shouldn’t be surprising that there were things even Time Lords didn’t know. There were limitless possibilities and limitless paradoxes, of course there was no way one Time Lord could keep count of them all. And that should be exciting! Expect... in this case it really is not.

“Nice speech,” the Doctor says. Not the Doctor that just discovered he didn’t know everything, not the Doctor that left a blazing trail of colour behind him wherever he ran; not even the Doctor that emblazoned question marks into his entire being. No, it was said by the Doctor with ridiculous teeth and poufy hair, the one that had once been dubbed ‘Spaceman’ by someone very precious. This Doctor continues: “of course I wouldn’t have gone on for so long, a simple good luck would have sufficed, right?”

“It’s better than your whining about having to go,” the oldest Doctor, both in terms of living as the Doctor and terms of order of living, laughs. 

The Spaceman sputters. “I did not!”

“You did,” the Doctor that was born of white hair, velvet jackets and punishment rebukes. “None of us ever really want to go-“

“Says you,” the Doctor that wasn’t allowed to be the Doctor, well not until his last breath, snorts.

“That’s why we’re stuck here,” the velvet white Doctor carries on, as though he had never been interrupted. A trait of stubbornness that never really left any of them, no matter how many times they had been regenerated. 

“And where exactly are we stuck?” The newest Doctor to discover what happens after regeneration asks. 

“Death, of course,” the oldest Doctor answers.

“Well, less of a death and more of an afterlife... of sorts,” the not-Doctor corrects.

“Oh, look!” The Spaceman jumps up, all conversation on death and afterlife, all memory of his own end, gone in the face of something new and sparkly. “We’re a woman this time! Brilliant!”

———

There’s nothing outside of the thirteen of them. At least nothing tangible, nothing that will interact with them. Nothing that can save them from themselves (and God, do they need saving). 

“You predecessor’s still out there,” The Doctor of trailing colours informs him, the newest Doctor to die, before holding a bag out. “Jelly baby?”

“What’s he planning to find?” He huffs (though eagerly digs into the bag for one of those jelly babies). He never really had a high opinion of his predecessor, even if he was the reason he met Clara.

“His loved ones,” the colourful Doctor answers, hiding the bag of sweets back in his coat. “Those he can’t live without.”

“Why aren’t you out searching then?” He asks around the jelly baby he’s eating, he knows every Doctor has a companion or two they couldn’t bear to be separated from.

“Someone has to be here to help those that have lost everything,” the colourful Doctor explains. His eyes trailing the Doctors who flock around the new Doctor and her surroundings (she herself, currently, unaware of the audience she has). His eyes rest on the hunched form the first, the one who let everyone go to be happy. They move to the not-Doctor who never had anyone to begin with. They rest on the Spaceman who had everything ripped from him for the betterment of everyone else. 

“What about them?” He asks, pointing towards the Doctor with the question marks and velvet-white Doctor.

“They’re waiting,” is all the answer he’s provided. It’s all the answer he needs. “What about you?”

“Me?” He asks, voice ever so slightly higher, as though he never thought on it. “What about me?”

“Why haven’t you left yet?” The colourful Doctor asks. “Isn’t she waiting?”

“She’ll be fine,” he says. “She’s always fine.”

The colourful Doctor hums in agreement. “She is a remarkable woman.”

“That she is.”

The two are left to their silence. Silence is never a good thing for any Doctor, it leaves them to think. To overthink.

“Has anyone ever actually found their loved ones out,” he gestures to the general area of nothingness around them.

“Not that we’re aware of,” the colourful Doctor answers. “For all we know our consciousness can’t leave this plane of existence until we’ve lived our last life… those who have wandered off have never returned.” He smiles. “I like to think they’ve found what they’re looking for, that’s why they never think to return.”

———

The newest edition of dead Doctors leaves that night (or whatever time is in this state). He doesn’t spare his other selves a moment of consideration or thought. He has one goal in my mind.

Clara.

She might be fine without him, but he... he can’t exist without her. And there might not even be a way for him to find her, but...

Well, they’ve dealt with worse odds than that, haven’t they?

**Author's Note:**

> This was the story idea that spawned from our conversation Tennants_midnight_wolf!!! I hope you enjoyed it, I was going to add more Clara/Doctor hintings/make it longer, but I couldn't get it to work, so I hope you like what did happen <3


End file.
